Our Doubts Are Traitors
by BridgerSkywalker
Summary: Mike Schmidt made a mistake four years ago. A mistake that would alter the rest of his life, along with that of his family's legacy. All because of one childish action that was meant to be a joke, and turned into something else entirely.
**AN:** So, this is an AU for the Fnaf series. It's based around several things. Fnaf 4 mostly, and the security guard Mike Schmidt. I don't think I'll name this AU, so oh well. I've done a lot of research on the games and played them myself. I've watched sooooo many theories. This itself **isn't a theory**. I just twisted the story to make my own. And this was the outcome. It'll be multiple chapters, and I'll try to update often, but I plan for long chapters so with long chapters comes the need for more time. I hope whoever reads this first chapter enjoys it! And let me know of any improvements I can make. In this AU, the crying child from the end of Fnaf 4 didn't die, but survived. This first chapter is more of a **prologue** , since the rest of the story takes place several years after the events of Fnaf 4. Let me know if I should continue! :)

 **Disclaimer:** Fnaf is Scott's not mine. But, I'm willing to duel him for it.

Chapter One

 _ **November**_

 _ **1983**_

* * *

"When he shall die, take him and cut him out into little stars. And he will make the face of heaven so fine, that all will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun."

-Romeo & Juliet

* * *

" _He hurt you."_

"But…I don't think he meant to."

" _Yes he did. He said you wanted a big kiss, didn't he? Even after you said you were afraid."_

"Well, yes but-"

" _But, nothing. He hurt you. He put you in danger, and look where you are now. You're dying. And I'm the one having to save you, but you're still making excuses for him. You're still giving off reasons why he's not at fault. He locked you in your room, he locked you in a storage closet, and you were_ screaming _and_ begging _to be let out, but he didn't let you, did he? He tried to kill you."_

"He didn't try to kill me…He and his friends…They were just playing a joke. A _mean_ joke, but it was just a joke, and he didn't mean to hurt me but…But I…"

" _You what?"_

"I'm afraid. I'm afraid of _him_. I'm afraid of my brother. I know he didn't mean to, but I'm afraid to go back."

" _Do you want me to save you?"_

"Yes…No…I mean…I don't know. These dreams…These nightmares, they keep getting worse and every time I see one of those _things_ I just slip farther and farther away. I keep hearing the chimes and the clocks and _I can't do it_ anymore. I can't keep fending the nightmares off. I'm so tired."

" _Then rest. I'll save you. I told you. I'll fix you."_

"Promise?"

" _I promise."_

* * *

Teddy had come to terms with the fact that his dreams were thoroughly terrifying and were nowhere near ending. Even though his "friend" told him he would stop them, it just seemed so highly unlikely, especially since he always felt like clouds now. It was a constant state of floating and mingling in the sky, drifting off into the cosmos, only to be yanked back down by those terrifying nights in his nightmares, to be relieved by the clock that was outside of his room.

Or, it once was. There was no telling if it was there anymore.

He had lost track of time so long ago, the last thing in his ears having been the sound of his skull crunching and the metal jaw of the animatronic sinking its teeth into his head. His brother crying out for him, cradling him, telling him he was sorry.

Funny thing was, Teddy believed him.

Even after all of the torturous pranks and cruel jokes, he sincerely believed his brother was sorry for what he had done to him, and the hatred was gone from his bones. Teddy was resentful. He would be resentful until they decided to pull the plug on his nine year old body. He probably wouldn't know forgiveness. But, he didn't hate his brother. He would never be capable of such as that.

After all, his brother hadn't intended to hurt him _that_ badly.

Not bad enough to cause him such a traumatic brain injury.

Or for him to be stuck in a purgatory of guarding their home from the monstrous beasts that had done this to him.

The beasts that had once been his _friends._

But, they were now the source of his nightmares.

Teddy didn't like to dwell on it in his dream world. Sometimes the nightmares ceased and he was weightless, other times he was as heavy as a stone. He heard things sometimes, mumbled words that he couldn't make out. But, he knew it was a dream. It wasn't reality, and yet spending every night fighting for his life in the halls of his house and in his bedroom were having lasting effects. It was exhausting, and Teddy wasn't exactly sure how much more he could take before he would explode.

" _Can you hear me? I don't know if you can hear me. I'm sorry."_

He could hear him. And those words rang out over and over again and Teddy really couldn't piece together the truth behind them. It was why he believed his brother was sincere in not meaning to hurt him, and yet the anger in his gut…The resentment. It still stayed.

He supposed it would be there forever.

"Your name is Teddy Schmidt. You have a dad. You have a brother. Your mom died when you were barely a year old. You got hurt. But, you're alive."

He tells himself that a lot. Over and over again actually, because what else can he do while he's sinking deeper into the darkness? It seems with each nightmare, he forgets more about himself. He forgets the curves in his house, the dimples in his father's cheeks, the screeching of his brother's laughter. He forgets it more and more.

And he hates it. He wants to die a lot of the time, and he doesn't think that's ok, but he does. Anything to make the nightmares stop and the chiming of the clocks to silence.

Anything to cease.

To dream a good dream.

* * *

Michael Schmidt had concluded his father hated him a long time ago.

Three weeks to be exact, so maybe not such a long time ago. But, it felt like a long time…A really long time. It felt like a completely different life, those twenty-one days. Twenty-one days ago his younger brother, the younger brother he ridiculed and tortured, wasn't lying in a hospital bed. He didn't have gauze wrapped around his skull, and he wasn't motionless.

No, those twenty-one days ago exactly, his brother had been on the floor of his room, crying. Crying because he had scared him again. Again and again and again. And eventually that sick and twisted pride he felt with each scream he emitted from the younger, turned to terror when his scream turned from frightened to agony.

The moment the animatronic chomped down and the blood started pooling between its teeth, Hell ringing out. His friends had stopped laughing, he had stopped laughing, _even_ Jeremy had stopped laughing. He had grabbed his brother immediately when he fell from the robot's mouth, cradling him and screaming, putting his hand over the pouring wound.

But, you can't stop the bleeding from a gash that big. You can't.

It was down to the brain matter. It was past the skull fragments and it looked like some reenactment of the JFK assassination, except this was his brother, not some video in history class. And he had been the Lee Harvey Oswald.

He was the villain of this story.

Not the Foxy mask he had been wearing, not the robots, not even the robot that had bit his brother's head. _Michael_ was the murderer here, even if his brother was still holding onto life by a thread.

He studied his brother's prone body. Teddy bear eyes were closed, usually wide and brown with curiosity and a need to _understand_ everything. But, they were gone from sight. Messy chocolate locks stuck out in all direction, the blood washed out and the wound covered with bandages. His left eye was bruised, purple reaching his cheek.

Teddy looked like a corpse.

Mike reached out, grabbing the younger's hand tightly in his own. The little clip on his brother's finger didn't jostle as Mike held on tighter, whispering, "Can you hear me?"

He paused, feeling suddenly very stupid for talking to his unconscious baby brother. However, he swallowed thickly, shaking his head, "I don't know if you can hear me."

Another pause…

"I'm sorry."

"Mike?" A voice said and Michael jumped out of his skin, releasing his brother's hand to turn and look in the doorway. His father stood, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. The eyes of the sixteen year old met the eyes of his father. Eyes that he had grown to fear, though there had been no reprimand to his actions. Just subtle looks. A few questions…

 _What were you thinking?_

That had been the hard one, because he hadn't known how to answer his father on that one. No clue. He had fucked up and he had gotten his little brother hurt. It was as simple as that. And here they were. No rhyme.

Mike cleared his throat and asked, "Yeah?"

"You should go get something from the cafeteria," His dad's voice was gentle, but it made Michael want to cringe. His father forced a smile, and Mike could tell it was forced because his dimples weren't prominent, "I know hospital food doesn't sound appetizing, but their sandwiches are pretty good. Sure beats being hungry."

Mike swallowed thickly again. He didn't know why his dad was trying to be nice to him. Andrew Schmidt had never been patient with his kids. Mike knew his father loved both of them, but after the death of Mike and Teddy's mother, he had been stressed. He had taken up extra work, working at a car shop down the road and working weekends at the diner before transferring to the sister pizzeria when the diner closed.

That fucking Hell hole. They spent so much time there. All the time. But, the day of Teddy's birthday is the day Mike fucks up.

But, the bottom line was…Andrew Schmidt should hate him. Yet, here he was, worried about him not eating the past several weeks.

"Mikey," Andrew's tone was now stern. Ah, there it was. "Son, go eat. I'll stay with him; he'll be here when you get back."

Mike's face contorted and he turned his head away, looking at the ghost of a child in the bed. He hissed, "You don't know that."

"What?"

"I said you don't know that!" Mike snapped, turning to look his father in the eyes. "You don't know if he'll be here when I get back! You don't know!"

"Lower your voice," Andrew Schmidt was back and full force, a face too young to be the father of a sixteen year old, because he himself had only been sixteen when Mike came along. Some people mistook him for Mike's brother. It angered Michael to some degree. He didn't want to be the reason his father had dropped out of school, but he had been.

His father went on, "We're in a hospital."

"We're in the trauma ward!" Mike stood suddenly. "None of these people are waking up!"

He smacked the empty cup from the bedside table; just to hear a satisfying bounce against the floor. He felt his eyes burning with tears and he jumped when he felt his dad yank on his arm harshly, growling, "Go downstairs. I don't want to hear this from you, any of this."

"Why, because it's pessimistic or I murdered your son and you don't want anyone to hear the details?" Mike shot back.

Andrew looked taken aback, eyes widening slightly, "You didn't murder anyone, Michael."

"I. Stuffed. His. Head. Into. The. Machine!" Mike stressed each other, yanking his arm out of his father's grip.

The slap was loud and Mike hadn't even realized his father had hit him until his face was turned to the side and he was staring at the floor, his cheek burning. He looked up slowly, making eye contact as his heart began to race…

He could practically hear it…

Wait.

He _could_ hear it.

Michael didn't even have time contemplate the fact his father had just struck him when he noticed the sound of the heart monitor picking up and his father was peering over his shoulder at the screen. Michael whirled around, seeing his brother's body convulsing. Immediately he leaned down, trying to hold the nine year old's arms down in some attempt to keep him from seizing in the bed.

Andrew pressed the emergency button, moving to the other side of the bed, then placing his hands on the back of his youngest's neck to keep his head still. Michael had never seen this before, and the terror on his father's face matched greatly with the look he wore the day the machine had chomped down on Teddy's head.

The machine screamed, and his father was shouting for help, but the doctors were obviously taking their dear sweet time.

And in one last moment, his brother's back arched and the convulsions stopped…

And Mike thought…his brother must be dead.

However, two teddy bear eyes snapped open to meet his.

And Mike found he was the one who couldn't breathe.

* * *

When Teddy opened his eyes he swore he saw one of the machines.

He _swore_ it was one, and his hand shot out so fast to hit the figure, it nearly ripped his arm from its socket. The robot grunted loudly in pain, and Teddy felt his fist sting. The figure had been holding his shoulders, and he was free, besides the feeling of someone's hands under his head and on the back of his neck.

And then he was screaming. Screaming bloody murder, just as he had done when the machine was about to swallow him alive. His throat felt dry and unused, but it felt good to scream, despite the pain. The air that filled his lungs was relief and it was alive.

He was alive.

He was free.

All of that time floating around in the abyss of his mind, and here he was. Out and in the real world, because he had to be awake. The pounding in his head was almost too much to bear and instantly his hands went to his head, only to feel two hands wrap around his wrists to stop him. He screamed louder, struggling hard in the hold.

"Teddy, buddy, come on, look at me," He heard a voice…And it was soothing. It wasn't like the one that was in the dark, telling him he would fix him. That one had been comforting, yes, but unsettling in the most part. "Look at me, baby. It's Daddy."

He didn't need to be told, but it was appreciated to hear it. His eyes, swollen and bruised, struggled to open enough for him to see. One eye was particularly blurry, like he had been in glasses his whole life, when in reality he had 20/20 vision.

Teddy swallowed thickly, staring up into the familiar face of his father. He was here. He was here with him and instantly Teddy had a warm and safe feeling that washed over him. Teddy's screaming ceased entirely and he looked into his father's eyes. He looked tired. Exhausted. But, Teddy was safe.

The boy's head snapped to the right suddenly when he heard a grunting sound and someone stood up from the floor, holding his cheek. An explanation for Teddy's burning hand was given when he saw Mike…God Mike…His brother…Holding his face.

Here was Mike…The one who had put him in the machine, but Teddy couldn't muster the hate. In fact, all he felt was terror at the sight of the elder. His shoulders tensed instantly, his jaw slacking open in horror. Mike was regaining his composure after the blow, and when his eyes focused on Teddy, Teddy had to bite back a scream.

He was definitely going to get into trouble for that.

But…Instead of his brother lashing out like he had expected, there was a look that flashed on his face.

Relief?

"Hey, buddy," Mike breathed, falling beside the bed to kneel next to it. Teddy's eyes were obviously having trouble focusing, the world spinning in reds and blues. Teddy flinched when Mike's hand wrapped around his own and he went on, "Hey…"

Teddy was silent, but his mouth remained open in confusion. He wanted to touch his head so badly, it hurt. It hurt. His eye was blurry and his thinking processes were way out of line. Words would spin around in his head, and then be gone the next second as if he had never thought about them in the first place. Something felt tight around his skull, like tape and wire holding everything inside. He knew why. He knew, and he knew the sixteen year old before him was the one to blame for the feeling. But, he didn't feel hate. He felt afraid.

The boy's body felt like led and he heard the sound of running footsteps, but the world was fading fast. The adrenaline of waking in fear was wearing off and all he felt now was the want to go to sleep. To go to sleep forever, but in those dreams, he was in danger. And his friends were not his friends. So the better option did not make itself apparent.

There was a man with a white coat.

There was a light being put in his eyes.

But, all he could think of was that everything was too dull to be awake.

* * *

" _Why don't you hate him?"_

"He's my brother, I love him."

" _Even after everything he did to you? After what he and his friends did?"_

"Yes. Always."

" _My little one…That is not wise. It is not wise to go back to the people who have harmed you."_

"You said you would fix me. I'm scared to go back, but I can't be a cry baby anymore. I have to go back and I have to be brave don't I?"

" _You don't have to. I could fix you and you could stay with me. I have others like you. Others who would welcome you."_

"That's too easy."

" _He did try to kill you, I won't ignore that. I won't forgive that."_

"I forgive him."

" _Then you are unwise. But, you are just a baby after all. Just a baby."_

" _And I always protect my babies."_

* * *

Mike hadn't understood half of what the doctor told him and his father.

Something about the little hole they had made in his brother's head to let the pressure out from the blood had worked, and that Teddy was responding well to the treatment, that him waking up and looking at them had been a good sign. That even the screaming had been a good sign.

He had compared it to a baby's first cry.

And that disturbed Mike.

Because this wasn't a child coming into the world. This was a child who had been yanked out of the world and had to fight his way back in. Through blood and skull fragments, he had dug himself out of death. That wasn't being born, that was being reanimated.

For the fifth night in a row, Mike found himself staring at his little brother. He had yet to wake up again after the first time, and he was concerned, but supposedly it was normal. He had let his father go home and shower, and grab them some extra clothes. His father always left reluctantly and Mike didn't know if it was because Mike had been the one to hurt Teddy in the first place or because it was his fatherly instincts taking over.

Either way it made Mike feel like shit.

Mike sighed deeply and spoke out loud to the slumbering child, "I fucked up big time."

His blue eyes moved back and forth and then around the room completely.

"I fucked up. You're not a cry baby. You were right to be scared and we didn't listen."

Suddenly, the emotions began to drive over and Mike's eyes watered profusely. He went to wipe them away, but instead curled forward, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Taking in a shuddering breath, he hissed, "God damn it, Teddy, I'm so fucking sorry."

"Mike?"

Mike's eyes snapped up at the small voice directed towards him. Teddy's eyes were open, wide and suddenly very alert, startling Mike slightly. Mike moved back, his shoulders stiffening as he stared into two teddy bear eyes.

Teddy's voice was soft and quiet, "Don't cry, Mikey."

And Mike was up in an instant, sitting beside Teddy on the bed. Teddy stared up at him with wide eyes, and Mike would have to be blind to have missed the slight fear that crossed over them. Hesitation.

"Do you…" Mike began, but the words died in a second. He let the back of his knuckles ghost across Teddy's red cheek. He saw the flinch, then he saw the fear die instantly at the gentle touch. "Do you want me to get a doctor? Are you hurting? Do you know where you are?"

It was a long time before Teddy answered the questions and he looked really confused. He was trying to decipher them, so maybe he wasn't thinking well?

But, he had been able to process Mike was crying, so that was good.

Or bad.

"I'm…The hospital," Teddy couldn't really find good words, and it was frustrating him. His brain wasn't matching up with his mouth. "In."

"In the hospital, yeah, that's good, you know that," Mike seemed to be reassuring himself, gently sliding his finger along Teddy's cheekbone. "Anything hurt?"

"Pounding," Teddy blinked hard. His skull was pounding. He could feel every push of blood from his heart. "Beating. Feels…heavy."

His brother nodded his head in understanding and pressed the button that had a picture of a nurse on it. Teddy watched Mike's movements silently, expecting him to start laughing or joking any second, but he was serious. Too serious.

"Serious?" Was all Teddy could say and Mike looked at him.

Mike nodded, understanding, "Yeah, Bud. It's serious. You're hurt pretty bad."

Mike's eyes were watering again and Teddy managed to reach up his left arm, finding his right one to be too twitchy and heavy to move. He poked Mike's cheek bone and croaked, "S'ok. Won't let him."

"Won't let who?" Mike asked, voice wavering a bit.

Teddy blinked as if it were obvious, "Was mad…Him. Won't let him punish you. S'ok."

Mike looked puzzled, but before he could continue to ask, a nurse entered. She was holding a clipboard and seemed surprised to see Teddy with his hand raised to poke his brother's face. Teddy lowered his hand, mostly dropping it from exhaustion. She approached the bed and looked at the monitors before taking out a flashlight and shining it in his eyes.

Teddy screeched loudly, turning his head away as the light made his head pound vividly. Anger flashed across Mike's face and he shoved the woman's hand away from the boy, along with the flash light as he growled, "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"I need to check the dilation of his left eye," The woman huffed, glaring down at Mike.

"You're scaring him," Mike hissed, touching his brother's shoulder lightly as the boy had pivoted his body away from the woman and put his face into the guard rail beside his bed. "Teddy, be careful don't hit your head."

Mike's warning was obeyed as the younger moved his head away from the rail slightly. It was obviously for smaller kids, ones who would roll out of bed. He wasn't a baby though, he didn't need one.

He tried to move his right arm to sit back up, but he found every time he tried to move that side of his body it began to shake uselessly. Something was really wrong…His left eye was blurry, his right arm wouldn't cooperate. Something must be bad.

Mike seemed to notice him not being able to push himself back up and gently lifted Teddy back straight by putting his hands under his arms. Teddy made a pained face and the nurse looked entirely frustrated with Mike.

"You ok?" Mike asked once Teddy was sitting back up.

Teddy nodded his head the best he could manage, "Fine…Not baby."

Sorrow crossed Mike's eyes and he realized his brother wasn't crying. He had all the right in the world to be crying right now, but he wasn't. He was keeping his mouth set, his shoulders tight. And this made Mike's chest ache. He was trying to be tough.

Mike took in a deep breath, and rubbed a soothing hand on the younger's shoulder, "You're really brave, Buddy."

Teddy's eyes widened in…Pride? Just Mike's sentence made the boy's face appear to be so proud of himself it made Mike's heart swell. He was glad his praises still made Teddy react this way. It had always been like this, and the glimpse of Before-Accident-Teddy was relieving.

He was glad Teddy didn't appear to hate him.

But, he found in a weird way, he wasn't so glad.

Teddy was very still as the nurse leaned forward again, shining the light in the boy's left eye. She glanced back at Mike, wearing a still annoyed look before writing a few more notes onto her clipboard. Mike opened his mouth with the intention to ask her what she was doing, only for him to be interrupted by the sound of the doctor's voice.

"Good evening, Michael," Mike turned his head quickly to see the doctor walking in, smiling brightly at the two boys. Something made it feel off though. Clinical. It was a clinical smile. Something you could tell was habit and an everyday thing for him. His eyes found Teddy's and he said, "Hello, Theodore. I don't think we've gotten to formally meet. I'm Doctor St. Frances; I've been handling your case since you've come into our care."

Teddy looked completely dazed, but nodded as if he understood. Mike stood from the bed to allow the doctor better access as he took the flashlight from the nurse's hand this time. Teddy tried not to cringe when it was brought into his eyes once more, particularly the blurry left one.

"Can you follow my finger for me, Theodore?" Doctor St. Frances asked. Teddy didn't answer verbally, simply did what he was asked as the doctor raised his hand. Mike saw the slight shake in Teddy's vision and the inability to follow comfortably without turning his head.

The doctor hummed and the nurse scratched more things down, making Mike frustrated even more. Why weren't they talking to them? Telling them what they were thinking or what was wrong? It was probably because Mike was only sixteen, or because he was the one at fault. There was absolutely no telling.

"Now, tell me, are you feeling any sort of sensations in the right side of your body?" The doctor asked, sitting on the edge of the bed where Mike had been a moment before.

Teddy gave a shaky nod and the doctor ordered, "Hold out your right arm for me."

The boy glanced up at Mike, as if looking for reassurance. Mike nodded his head with the intention for him to do what the doctor said. As much of an ass-hat the guy seemed to be, he was the doctor after all, and the sooner Teddy could get better the sooner they could get out of here and go home.

Go back to normal.

When Teddy attempted to raise his right arm, it began to spaz quite helplessly and shake. He grimaced, immediately dropping the limb and biting down hard on his lip. He whispered, "Sorry…Hurts…"

"It's alright," The doctor reassured, lifting the limb himself, feeling the limpness of it. Gently he poked the arm, "In your…accident, the left hemisphere of your brain was damaged. This affects the muscles on the right side of your body. Which is why your right side feels weakened, but your left eye is the one that is troubled, am I correct in that assumption?"

"Yes sir," Teddy muttered.

The doctor looked over at Mike and asked, "Is he having trouble communicating?"

Mike narrowed his eyes, "Of course he is, he's been through something pretty fucking traumatic."

The man didn't look fazed by the cursing from the teen, "I was referring to speaking. His word choices, do they seem odd?"

Mike relaxed a bit, grinding his teeth together. It wasn't habit being patient with anyone. He clenched his fists a moment before sighing deeply and shutting his eyes, "Yeah…I guess so. He's stumbling with words. Skipping over some."

Teddy was looking up at him with wide eyes, but behind the golden orbs, Mike knew Teddy had realized he was struggling. Doctor St. Frances nodded, "I thought he would. Theodore, I won't explain this in too much detail; I'll save it for when your father returns so we can prepare rehabilitation plans. But, your brain has suffered a great deal of…breaking. Think of it as a broken bone, have you ever broken a bone before?"

Teddy nodded, he had broken his arm when he was four, falling off a swing set when he swung too high.

"Do you remember when they took the cast off, you more than likely went to a doctor for a while, a doctor who would exercise the limb and help it get back into shape?"

The boy nodded again and the doctor smiled, looking relieved Teddy had a clue what he was talking about, "You'll go to those sorts of doctors again. Except, these will help you get strong in the right side of your body again, and get rid of the tingling sensation. You'll go to an eye doctor, who will help exercise your left eye into functioning. You might even get full vision back. And you'll go to speech classes. This all may seem very overwhelming, but you shouldn't worry about a thing, because I will handle everything with your father."

"Oh," A voice suddenly said from the door.

All four occupants of the room turned to see Andrew standing in the doorway. He was holding a duffle back, no doubt filled with fresh clothes for himself and Mike. Mike watched as his brother's face lit up with glee at the sight of his father, the child holding out his left arm and crying, "Daddy!"

Mike moved even further from the bed and the doctor stood from where he sat as Andrew approached. He sat down, the third to take the place in front of the little one. Teddy's eyes were watering profusely, small hand gripping tightly into his father's shirt. He shut his eyes, to stop the tears. His head was beginning to hurt again from the threatening of crying.

"Hey, buddy," Andrew greeted, wiping the beginning of the tears off the boy's eyelashes, though his own eyes were slightly pink with some as well. "Good to see you awake. You feel ok?"

Teddy nodded his head. He was tired. He wanted to sleep, but for the moment he just wanted to hold onto his father and seek the comfort only a parent could give. His chest rattled and when the doctor put a hand on his father's shoulder to beckon him into the hall, he was highly disappointed.

His father kissed his cheek, told him he would be back, and followed the man in the white coat out.

The interaction was brief, but Teddy felt full. He felt relieved to have his father nearby, and though he had almost missed it, he had seen his father shared that relief. Things must have been bad. His "friend" had told him that much.

Mike looked down at Teddy as they were left alone again. He sat in the chair next to his brother and he mumbled, "It's a load of bullshit that they never want to say anything in front of kids. It's your head, and you're my brother. We should know the details as well."

"Don't…Wanna," Teddy croaked.

Mike pursed his lip, "You don't want to know?"

The younger shook his head in response and Mike sighed, "Well, I want to know."

Desperately, Teddy wanted to continue the conversation. But, the ache in his head and the thoughts in his mind seemed to be drifting into something that wasn't of consciousness. He wanted sleep. He wanted dreamless sleep, though he knew that wasn't something he was going to get. He hadn't even realized his head was drooping to the side when his brother suddenly reached out and stopped him from falling forward.

"Woah there, kid," Mike huffed. "Lie down, dummy."

And that made Teddy smile.

Because it was _so normal_.

* * *

" _Mike, hey it's me…Jeremy."_

"Oh…Hey. You found the room's phone number?"

" _Yeah, my mom called the hospital desk to get it. I'm so glad you answered and not your dad…"_

Mike couldn't argue. He would be scared too.

" _H-How is he? Little Man, I mean."_

"He's doing better. He's been waking up and talking."

" _Good, Dude. Good…Fuck, I'm so glad he's ok. You don't understand how glad I am."_

"I'm guessing the other guys don't want anything to do with me anymore, huh?"

" _No! You know it's not like that, Mike. What we did to your brother was shitty though, and it was…It was fucked up. We all feel really bad about it; I just think Tommy and Brian aren't handling it well."_

"And you are?"

" _Shit no. But, I know we're responsible. And I was a part of harassing your brother, I helped you lift him. I h-helped…I'm so sorry, man. I'm so sorry."_

Mike could hear Jeremy's voice cracking slightly.

"Jeremy, don't feel bad. He's going to be ok. Everything is going to be ok."

" _I know. I kno-w-w. There was just…so much…blood…"_

He was crying. Mike could tell, even if he was trying hard to hide it.

"Listen to me. This isn't your fault, or Tommy's, or Brian's. It was a mistake. An _accident_. Don't you fucking let yourself get eat up by this, Jeremy Fitzgerald, you got me?"

" _I-I got you, Bro. I guess I'll call you in a few days. Let me know if anything changes."_

"I will."

" _And Mike? I really am sorry."_

Mike swallowed thickly past the lump in his throat…

"Yeah, Jeremy. I am too."

* * *

They were slinking around.

Around and around and around, and God damn it, Teddy knew they were there. He knew they were lurking out in the dark, breathing too heavy to be the lungs of anything human. Their teeth scraped against each other and their claws moved along the walls. It tingled up and down his spine and made bugs crawl into his brain and shred it to pieces like a saw. Teddy mingled well in the darkness, flashlight out of battery.

Red and blue flashed.

" _Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Leave me alone."_

It wasn't going away, the swirls of the colors moved together and though he couldn't really make it out, he felt the sinister feeling in the air, chilling him to the bone. His room had once been safe, even when his brother locked him inside. But, now it was a curse. A hated place. A place he would never want to be ever in the darkness of the night.

He tried to switch on the flashlight again.

No dice.

" **Why don't you follow me to the back? I've got a prize for each and every one of you."**

" _Get the hell away!"_

" **Aw, that's not very good language to have, Teddy-Bear. Now come on, come get your prize."**

The red and blue swirls moved and moved and moved.

Blood and bruises; that was all they were matching the little broken things inside of his head and on his face. His marred skin and scalp.

" _Daddy, help me."_

" **No one in their right mind would help a cry baby like you."**

Teddy shut his eyes, putting his face in his knees.

" _They would. Bubba would help me."_

" **Bubba! That's funny!"**

" **Your bubba is the reason you're here with me in the first place!"**

Teddy's skin singed and he looked up, staring into the swirls of the blood and bruises. His heart rate was speeding up and there was nothing he could convince himself into slowing it down with. There was a soul. This was the soul right in front of him, seeping into his blue carpet, the plush sticky with crimson and gunk.

" _You don't know him."_

" **Neither do you. You know why? Because he broke you. And you think your little friend is going to fix you, but he's not. He can't. Because it's too late."**

" **You can't fix what is shattered."**

" **Because it'll always have cracks."**

His throat was ripped out of his skin…

And his own blood mixed with that of the bruises.

* * *

Teddy screamed.

He screamed his throat raw as he sat up straight in bed and the heart monitor screamed with him when his pulse spiked. He choked on air, tears making him cough through the life and everything that told him he was human and a child. Something he didn't want to be anymore, because he was a target. A tug of war toy. Something to be fought over and devoured.

"Teddy! Teddy!" A voice shouted, holding his wrists.

Michael.

Mike's hands were hovering as he released Teddy's wrists, seeing the realization hit the boy that he was having a nightmare. The hospital room was barely lit, the heart monitor slowing down with Teddy's calming breath.

He looked afraid to touch the younger, palms slightly above Teddy's head as if to keep him from hitting it. It was like that now. Mike always watching him, making sure he didn't move too quick, too sudden. Making sure his head didn't get too close to anything hard. The doctor said after serious head injuries, another one would be much easier to get. Even when Teddy's head did heal, any bump could turn into a concussion.

Just another thing to worry about now.

"Daddy, Daddy?" Teddy breathed, chest heaving up and down as he blinked through his tears. "Want…Daddy."

Mike looked slightly hurt that his presence wasn't enough to chase away the bad dreams but in all honesty…He probably was the bad dream. And Teddy's broken speech was proof of it.

"He'll be back soon," The sixteen year old said. "He went to get coffee. It's really late. You need to go back to sleep."

"No, no, no," Teddy insisted. "He's there."

"Who?" Mike inquired, pushing a stray hair that had managed to make its way out of the bandage and into Teddy's face. "Who's there?"

Teddy swallowed and shook his head, shifting on the bed. Silence enveloped the two until Teddy's breathing had evened out completely and he was staring at the wall blankly. Clearing his throat, Mike said, "Jeremy called…He asked how you were doing."

Teddy's eyes widened in wonder at the words. Mike could read it immediately. A big kid had called to make sure he was alright?

 _Awesome._

A small smile graced the younger's lips and Mike glanced at the clock. Six in the morning. It was too early; the sun wouldn't be up for a while. Tugging at his brother's arm, he said, "Hey, let's lay down. I'll lay down with you."

Teddy hesitated slightly before nodding his head slowly in understanding.

Yeah…Lay down. Bubba would protect him.

 _That guy was a liar._

Mike lay down beside Teddy once he was settled comfortably and Mike pulled the blanket up tight around them. He knew he wouldn't sleep, for fear of hurting the younger in his slumber. But, if it got Teddy some rest, it would be worth it.

Teddy's eyes fluttered closed and Mike reached out, gripping his brother's hand as he too sunk into the pillows.

"I won't ever hurt you again. And I won't _ever_ let anything happen to you."

"Never…Never again."

" _If only your brother knew, Teddy."_

" _If only he knew."_


End file.
